


Hard To Look So Easy

by Flames_and_Jade



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Committed Relationship, Developing Relationship, Gay Rights, Gender Identity, Heat Cycles, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, More tags to be added, No mpreg, Omega Verse, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sexual Equality, Sexual Identity, Social Issues, Therapist!Patrick, Therapy, mental health, mentions of off-screen self-harm, mentions of off-screen suicide attempt, research papers, supressants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-03-22 21:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13772778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade
Summary: Set in an evolving A/B/O universe, Patrick is a Therapist for those struggling to accept and live with their dynamic and is working on a research paper that, he hopes, will spell the end to rising suicide rates and depression. Pete is a part-time bartender, bar owner, and bassist in Arma Angelus...and then there’s speed dating.A story about not letting how you were born decide your life, about acceptance and open-mindedness, and what love might really be all about.





	1. Chapter 1

_Working Notes - Dr. Patrick Stumph - 20150215_

_It’s a strange thing, biology. Some people called the dynamics evolution while some said it was the reverse of progress, that humankind had devolved back into a more primal form._

_Now, though, things are a bit different. Society has realized that denial is not a wise way to cope with change, and that not everything fits within a tidy box of Alpha, Beta, or Omega. While a perfect system is still a long way off, there is hope. Quite a few celebrities nowadays were Omegas, their “come-hither” presence making them all the more convincing on stage and on the screen. Alphas came in all shapes and sizes--women who command cooly, men who didn’t feel the need to parade their status around like a badge, omegas who pursued careers in medicine and law, refusing to conform to a life of docility and domesticity._

_Suppressants, once illegal and dangerous, are now the norm. Children are allowed to manifest naturally, but if it occurs before their 18th birthday they go through their first expression and then are placed on a careful regimen to ensure that their biology doesn’t hamper their growth. Underage pregnancy and schoolplace sexual assault decreased dramatically once laws were passed enforcing suppressants until adulthood. Those who choose to continue suppressants are not looked-down upon or discriminated against anymore, the lack of scent just one less piece of information rather than a black mark. So it is that some choose to live life without the reminder of biological roles while others choose to allow it a place in their life. The ultimate message has become the normalization of choice, of acceptance, of equality._

_At least...this is the hope. The reality is sometimes just a bit different._

  
~//~

“I’ll see you next week, okay?” Patrick smiled until the door closed behind Hannah and then he slumped, rubbing a hand over his face before checking his calendar. He had twenty minutes before his next appointment--just enough time to eat. Pulling his lunchbox out from under the desk, he set out his sandwich and turned the stereo up, flicking over to a Jazz station he particularly enjoyed. He put his feet up on the desk--mentally sticking up his middle finger at all the figures in his life who would be shrieking in dismay if they saw him--and relaxed.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out to see a text from Joe. << _Arma Angelus is playing at 8 tonight at The Hub. Down?_ >> Smiling, he set back a quick affirmative as a knock sounded at the door. Usually metalcore bands weren’t his thing, but this group had unexpectedly deep lyrics, and there were actual _melodies_ in their songs, rather than just endless thrashing guitars and pulsating drums. A gentle knock on the door told him lunchtime was over, and pushing away thoughts of a sea of bodies and flashing lights, Patrick smiled at his next patient.

“Come on in, I don’t bite. Promise.” The slender young man looked at him curiously and shuffled in, plunking down in the chair in a way that screamed _I might break if I let it all go_. Patrick threw away the remnants of his lunch and stood, coming around the desk and sitting down in the chair across the low table. “How are you today? My name is Patrick.”

“Jessie.” The boy mumbled, looking up at Patrick with shuttered eyes.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jessie. What’s going on for you today?” He had read through his intake form and had an idea of what he needed, but always liked to ask first.

“I’m…” The young man sighed heavily. “I’m an Omega, and I’m still on suppressants. I got teased a lot when I manifested and...it got really bad.” He made a waving gesture with his hand before settling it on his forearms, running his fingers unconsciously across long sleeves covering the still-healing wounds. “You read my file, you know why I’m here.”

Nodding, Patrick sighed. “Have you thought about hurting yourself anymore lately?”

“No.” He shook his head, scratching absently at his legs. “I just...I guess I just don’t get why I’m like this. People...people always said I was a freak, I was useless. I’m an Omega but I’m a guy so I can’t get pregnant...what’s the point?” He looked up at Patrick with unshed tears in his eyes, and Patrick sighed. This was a common issue, sadly, among the Omegas he treated.

“You’re not useless, Jesse. I don’t know why exactly from a strictly biological standpoint men are sometimes Omegas, but that doesn’t negate the rest of you.” He smiled. “Our biology doesn’t define who we are. Look at me, do I strike you as a ‘typical’ Alpha?”

Jessie’s eyes widened, as almost all patients did when they realized Patrick was an Alpha. He knew he didn’t come across as one in his mannerisms or career choices, and the fact that his preferred outerwear was sweaters only furthered his eccentricity in many people’s eyes. “You have a lot of things to offer outside of just what hormones you secrete, my friend.” Jesse nodded and looked at his hands, so Patrick decided it was time to get talking. “Why don’t you tell me a few of the things that people have said to you that bother you. Maybe we can get to the bottom of them.”

Jesse’s eyes roamed over the framed diplomas on Patrick’s wall--one in tones of gold and ivory awarded him his Master’s in Psychology, the other had red and silver filigree border and stated he had earned a doctorate in Sexual Studies and Dynamics. “Well, one kid told me that I had to have cheated on my exit exams, because Omegas are stupid.” Nodding, they discussed why that was just a stereotype, and Patrick gently prodded him for something else that had been said to him. “I…” He looked up at Patrick with tears running down his cheeks. “One of the guys said I was going to grow up to be some guy’s bitch and that I’d beg to take it up the ass every three months.”

Grimacing, Patrick handed him a tissue. “That’s certainly a crass statement.” He saw something in Jesse’s posture and cocked his head to the side. “What bothers you about that? Was it how he said it? Or was it something else?” Eyes widening, Jesse blew his nose as fresh tears fell from his cheeks and he nodded and Patrick gave him a gentle smile. “Jesse, there’s nothing wrong with liking guys, or liking men and women.”

“But what if that’s just what my biology is making me do?!!?” He burst out, and inwardly Patrick smiled as the real issue came into view. “What if it turns me into something I’m not, or something I don’t want to be?!”

“That isn’t how it works.” Patrick shook his head. “Being an Omega doesn’t predispose you to liking a certain gender, and it certainly isn’t going to make you suddenly love brussels sprouts or lima beans.” Jesse smiled at that and Patrick sat back. “Tell me something, have you ever gone through a heat? Other than your first one before you went on suppressants.” He could smell that Jesse was still taking the pills, his normal pheromones and scents were masked and dormant.

“No.” Jesse picked at the armrest of the couch. “Is it bad I want to...know what it’s like?”

Patrick shook his head. “Not at all. Why do you want to, though? That’s the most important thing.”

“I guess I just want to know...if I can do it. If I can get through it without crawling to an Alpha.” He looked up. “Is that weird?”

“No, it’s not weird to want to understand your body, it's actually a sign of maturity.” Patrick looked at him. “Have you read about what normally happens? I know they cover it briefly in school but not in any great detail.” Jessie nodded a bit, telling Patrick he had read about nesting and getting toys and keeping water nearby. The clock over the door warned that they only had about five minutes left, so he sat up. “We’re almost out of time, but I want you to do two things for me. One, I want you to program my number into your phone right now.” He held out a business card and Jesse dutifully saved the number. “You can call me anytime, day or night if you need to talk to someone or if you start feeling low again.” Jesse smiled at him, the small movement that made him feel heartened. “Second, I want you to make a list for me. Write down all the things that you think are going to happen in your heat, or you’re worried about, or you aren’t sure about, and we’ll talk about them next time.”

“Okay.” Jesse smiled and stood. “Thanks, Dr. Stumph.”

“Anytime.”

The door shut behind the boy and Patrick sat back with a sigh, scrubbing his face with his hand. So many lives changed or ruined by society’s narrow view of dynamics and orientation...it was a tragedy.

Rising, he moved back to settle behind the desk with another glance at the clock. Two-thirty, he could probably get in three more hours of writing before the show.

  
~//~

_Working Notes - Dr. Patrick Stumph - 20150218_

_  
The standard perceptions of the dynamics are well-known to most, taught and engrained since primary school into our consciousnesses. Alphas are dominant, headstrong, and charismatic natural leaders. Betas are generally social, but have the widest divergence of personalities. Omegas are nurturing, submissive, and caring._

_Gender roles have also been deeply ingrained into our collective psyche in relation to the dynamics. Alpha Men are expected to be the Football Quarterbacks, the All-Stars, the CEOs. Alpha Women are leaders of Fortune 500 companies, they’re the ones in power suits and who loudly eschew the idea of children. Beta gender roles have suffered the least stereotyping, probably due to the fact that their dynamic makes up more than 50 percent of the population. Yet beta women are expected to want children and be well-versed on the care and feeding of their offspring, Beta men should aspire to blue-collar work and a life of quiet domesticity in the suburbs. Omegas—their lives are the most pre-prescribed of all. Omega women are almost fetishized for their charms, painted as the ultimate femme fatale and idealized in both media and society. Omega men fare far less well—a few have become notable drag queens with a nearly-rabid following of Alpha women, but most simply blend into the background because society has no idea what to do with a man whose whole dynamic centralizes around submission and aesthetics._

_Acceptable unions within dynamics were the first to change. After the success of the universally-inclusive Women’s Suffrage movements of the 1850s, the next hurdle was the freedom to join with whomever was your desire. Alphas men who found their match and mettle with an Alpha female were slowly accepted. Betas who married were welcomed with open arms. Betas who fell in love with an omega were less likely to be scoffed at, and while no one liked to acknowledge Omegas who married other Omegas, they were at least no longer an illegal union. There was some fluidity within these norms—occasionally a wildly-successful Alpha female fashion mogul would walk the red carpet with her Beta husband—and society started to cease clapping its collective hands over its mouth in shock._

_The gay rights movements of the early 2000s were notably centralized and birthed from within the Alpha ranks. Powerful Alpha females loudly and eloquently demanded equal standing for their love as they cut the opening ribbon of their new chrome-and-glass skyscraper with a smiling Beta beside them with ribbons in her hair. Betas who had found love within their own gender and dynamic rode the coattails of the Alpha-led movement, claiming legitimacy and recognition for their own unions with such unity that society barely seemed to bat an eyelash. Omegas, however, were left out of this tumult and remained in the background of these changing norms._

_The next revolution will not be out of a mingling of the dynamics, but rather a divergence. After careful research and study, I propose that society is beginning to see the three dynamic delineations fracturing at the seams. A new way of quantifying and codifying must be created if we wish to see suicides and violence decrease._

  
~//~

 

The club was positively _humming_ when Patrick arrived. He had fallen asleep on the couch when he got home and only woke up in time to change and dash downtown. Searching for Joe’s familiar mop in the crowd, he found him near the front, smiling at a scene girl who was draped over a pretty blonde. “Trick!” He grinned widely as Patrick neared. “This is Molly and Joanna.” Patrick smiled and shook their hands, both were Betas, their scent sweet and fresh as they clung to each other. He was about to ask them a question when the band came onto the makeshift stage with a crash of cymbals by the drummer.

“What the fuck is up, Chicago!!” The bassist screamed into the mic, and the crowd roared back. “We’re Arma Angelus, are you ready to rock the fuck out?” Without waiting for an answer they rolled into their set and Patrick was swept up in the wall of sound that rolled over the space like a wave. In the jostling tide he was pushed over to the left side of the stage, and Patrick looked up to see the bass player smiling widely at him. He couldn’t help but smile back, a flush rising to his cheeks for no discernible reason except that he was hot and he couldn’t help that he had a thing for tattoos. _He probably thinks I’m some nineteen year old groupie_ he thought distantly and cursed the fact that he looked so young. But then he was whirling away to jump off the drum stand and Patrick was being jostled by a bouncing Joe for the rest of the set.

They clustered around the bar afterwards, Joanna yammering to Joe animatedly about the guitar riffs and the assorted tech used by the band. Patrick sipped his beer and let out a short laugh. “Kinda feel like a third wheel even though I’m clearly the fourth wheel.”

Molly nodded with a wry grin as she sipped her sprite. “Yeah, she loves them. I swear she’d still have the bassists picture in her wallet if it wasn’t for dating me.” Patrick laughed at that, noting the easy way she still leaned into her girlfriend easily, hand tucked into her back pocket. It was nice to see people happy, in contrast to the troubled, heartbroken souls he saw each day at work.

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Two years.” A small smile tucked up the corners of her mouth, lips covered in black lipstick. “She was a senior when I was a sophomore. I chickened out on talking to her the whole time in high school until we both met again in college.”

Patrick nodded. “That’s awesome you found each other again.”

“It’s pretty dope. Plus, I’d never dated another beta before? It’s so chill, like...no drama, no weirdness, except that she refuses to fold laundry.” There was a calm light in her eyes and it made him feel conviction thrum through him that he was on the right track. People _deserved_ to find happiness no matter what their dynamic or society said. “What about you? You and him aren’t together, right?”

He nearly choked on his drink of beer. “God, no. He was my college roommate in undergrad and...no. You think not putting away laundry is bad—I swear for a year he just refused to do it.”

They laughed at that, swapping _you wouldn't believe that she_ — and _that’s nothing, once he_ — until the Joanna pulled her keys from her pocket as she wrapped her other arm around her girlfriend. “I’m tired...you ready to go?”

“Just waiting on you, freak.” Molly snarked as a kiss was pressed to her cheek. “Nice to talk to you, Patrick. See you at the next show?”

“Most likely, and the pleasure was all mine.” He laughed with a look at Joe as they all walked out together, saying their goodbyes as they began the long walks to their cars.

“God, I fucking love that band.” Joe stuck his hands in his pockets, shaking his head against the cold. “So worth leaving the comfort of my couch, and not many things are.”

“Now that’s a true statement.” Patrick shorted before Joe jostled him with his shoulder in the way that only best friends knew how to—a non-verbal _fuck you_ mixed with _yeah you’re probably right._ His mind drifted back inexplicably to the bassist’s smile, his slender figure and the way energy seemed to radiate off him.

But then he was nodding goodnight to Joe and sliding into his car for the drive home, shivering in the cold while the heater huffed to life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meetings, first dates...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! First, I want to say thanks to all who have dropped by and left a comment or kudos--you're awesome! This story is one of my faves, and while I can't promise regular updates *looks guiltily at long list of WIP's,* I can promise not to abandon it 'till it's done! So thanks for coming along, and off we go!

 

 

_ WORKING NOTES-DR. PATRICK STUMPH-20150423 _

  
  


_ Consider the following individuals, each of whom have been patients of mine. Their stories are told here with their permission, but names and personal details have been changed to protect their anonymity. _

 

 

  * __Ariel, who is on the debate team in high school and is a nationally-ranked orator. She bites her nails obsessively before each competition, but has consistently ranked first and has been given a full-ride scholarship to a college of her choosing. She is predicted to be Valedictorian and leads the cheerleading team.__


  * _Luke, who wants nothing more than to be a father and dreams of leaving his high-paying job to be a stay-at-home dad and homeschool his two daughters. Yet, he remains in his position and looks forward to going home to his children each day._


  * _Danielle, who had a stutter all through her educational years and only had few friends outside a small, insular group. After a college teacher’s encouragement, she tried out for a talent show and performed a short dramatic piece. Her first movie is due out next year, with high critical anticipation._



 

 

_ Naturally, every reader would assign a dynamic to each of these individuals--an act that is almost unconscious in our society. A person’s name, gender, and dynamic are the three most vial pieces of information, and are assessed and solidified in the mind within the first thirty seconds of a conversation, according to research (CITE PRUITT HERE).  _

 

_ Generally, with the convenient pushing-aside of a few outlier facts, the individuals above are easily classified by dynamic. Ariel is an Alpha, Luke is a Beta, and Danielle is an Omega...except they are not. Ariel is an Omega, Luke and Danielle are both Alphas. What does this mean? Are they simply freaks--the statistical inevitability of a permutation that demands the presence of outliers? Or is there something more? Something that doesn’t quite fit within our rigid views of dynamics? _

 

_ Perhaps these scenarios are not simply examples of deviance, but rather of  _ evolution _. The world we live in is a multifaceted and complex place—the three dynamics society has accepted since years past are no longer enough to explain the differences experienced and—tragically—suppressed by individuals today. Suicide rates are on the rise, as is depression in those between high-school and college age. Young people no longer feel like they can be themselves within the confines of what they are told they must be.  _

  
  


_ ~//~ _

  
  


“Seriously, why do I go to these things with you?” Patrick groused at Joe as he parked the car. His best friend made a stupid face and grinned. 

 

“Because it’s never bad to have the World’s Politest Alpha with you at one of these things, and because you need to get out more.” 

 

“My social life is just fine, thank you. Plus, I’m not  _ always _ polite, for fuck’s sake you make me sound like Emily Post or something.” Patrick bristled as he got out of the car, straightening his fedora and smoothing his light-blue button up. He was wearing his leather jacket because Joe had rolled his eyes when he arrived to pick him up and refused to let them leave until he wore something else.  _ No sweaters, dude! This place has a strict no-sweater policy!  _ Privately, he thought that was unlikely, and furthermore thought that cardigans were a vastly underrated clothing item. But he had gone along with it, even though Joe had groused when he rolled the sleeves up past his elbows. 

 

His best friend had just shrugged and nudged him towards the door, where a hand-lettered sign proclaimed  _ “Speed Dating This Way!” _ They made it inside, got their name tags and numbers and Patrick sat down. He had a green dot and a purple dot next to his name, indicating he was an Alpha and he was interested in both men and women. The buzzer sounded and a pretty brunette plunked down in front of him--the way this event was structured, Alphas sat and were approached to even the psychological playing field. They talked for the allotted ten minutes, before exchanging numbers even though they both admitted that they weren’t interested in each other. Patrick shrugged--it was always good to have more friends who played the clarinet. He took a long drink of water and prayed Joe wouldn’t sit down in front of him-- _ that  _ would be awkward to have people thinking he was gauging his Beta best friend for dating potential.

 

“Hey there.” Patrick looked over the rim of the cup and saw a pair of warm brown eyes set in tanned skin. He recognized him from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place it. “I’m Pete.” 

 

“So your name tag says.” Patrick couldn’t help but drawl, and the other man grinned. 

 

“Well, yes, but it seems weird not to say it anyways.” Pete shrugged, still smiling, and Patrick got it.

 

“You’re the bass player for Arma Angelus, aren’t you?” 

 

Pete groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Please tell me you aren’t some sort of groupie. I came to this thing to try to get away from that.” 

 

“No, man, not at all.” Patrick couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ve gone to a couple of your shows, my best friend Joe loves your band. But I promise, I don’t have pictures of you pasted under my bunk bed or anything.” Pete laughed at that, and Patrick realized he really liked the way his face scrunched up even though he sounded like a donkey braying. 

 

“Oh good.” Pete calmed down and settled his chin on his hands adorably. “So, tell me about yourself Patty-cakes.” 

 

“One, I hate nicknames.” Patrick rolled his eyes and Pete just grinned irrepressibly. “Umm...I’m a psychologist, I do research and counseling. I play music in my free time, I’m basically a walking David Bowie encyclopedia, I love my record collection more than most people love their kids, and I like peanut butter ice cream.” 

 

Pete grinned. “Favorite Michael Jackson album?”

 

“ _ Thriller _ , hands down, and I’ll fight you on it.” Patrick replied, smiling as Pete laughed again.

 

“No argument from me dude.” He stretched his arms over his head, exposing a tan line of skin that Patrick couldn’t help but notice before settling his elbows back on the table. “Well, I’m not quite as cool. You obviously know what I do in my spare time, but I also co-own a bar on the east side...so I kinda do a bit of everything.”

 

“Jack of all trades, huh?” Patrick smiled, sneaking a glance at Pete’s name tag. An orange dot for Omega and a purple dot were on his name tag, and he couldn't help but notice a distinct lack of scent coming off of Pete...so he was on suppressants. “What kind of bar?” 

 

Pete shrugged. “Would you believe me if I said it was a male strip club?” Patrick laughed and shook his head, and Pete smiled that lovely smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes. “It’s not, it’s a bit of a bar, bit of a club. We have live music every Thursday, and Karaoke on Saturdays, which means I  _ never _ work Saturdays.” 

 

“That bad?” Patrick noticed Pete was looking at his lips as he spoke and he realized he didn’t mind. 

 

“Dude, you have no idea how horrible people can sound five drunks in thinking they’re Rihanna.” He couldn’t hold back a laugh at that, but then the buzzer sounded and he readied himself for the  _ well, nice to meet you, but _ — speech. 

 

“Want to get coffee?” Pete asked suddenly, and Patrick felt his eyes widen as his heart skipped a beat. “Saturday morning?” 

 

“Like, date-coffee or friend-coffee?” Patrick couldn’t help but ask, kicking himself mentally for probably messing everything up  _ and  _ sounding like a high school girl at the same time. But Pete’s eyes just sparkled and he felt hope whistle through his chest that he just maybe hadn’t said the wrong thing. 

 

“Definitely date-coffee.” Pete picked up the pen and grabbed Patrick’s arm, scribbling his number on it. 

 

“Are we sixteen, now?” Patrick couldn’t help but ask as he laughed. “There’s paper right here, you know.” 

 

“Nahh. It’s more romantic this way.” Pete stood up. “Saturday, Tricky. Try not to fall in love with whoever comes after me, ‘cause that would break my heart.” He moved away with a wink and Joe replaced him, plunking in the chair with wide eyes and a shell-shocked expression.

 

“Dude, I think I found my fucking soulmate.” He started rambling and Patrick groaned inwardly.  _ No chance of that here, Pete.  _

  
  


_ ~//~ _

 

_ Working Notes - Dr. Patrick Stumph - 20150424 _

 

_ MAYBE THIS IS MY ABSTRACT?!?!?! _

 

_ Here in this paper, I will attempt to communicate my two hypotheses on the evolution of dynamics. Firstly, I hypothesize that dynamic presentation is separate from sexual preference, orientation, or expression. Direct correlations between dynamics and certain sexual orientations are outdated and, frankly, harmful. Certain physiological needs or desires that are common during hormonal events are biological expressions and do not correlate with sexuality. Secondly, I submit that the well-understood and accepted three dynamics must be further broken down and delineated. I will propose six dynamic categories, but I hypothesize that there are most likely many more. _

  
  


_ ~//~ _

  
  


It was a blindingly bright Saturday as Patrick stepped into Osmium Coffee Bar and blinked as he looked at the decor. It was  _ eclectic _ to say the least...and he wondered what that meant about Pete since he’d picked it. At least he hadn’t chosen one of the five hundred Starbucks around Northwestern, he reflected. Sure he was a psychologist and had a pretty decent understanding of human thinking, but you couldn’t tell him that people who gulped down the watered-down sugar-swill of Corporate Coffee weren’t a little weird.

“You found it!” Warm tones he vaguely remembered from earlier in the week sounded from behind him, and he turned away from the brightly-painted pipe-work on the walls to meet a pair of honeyed eyes. 

  
“I did…” He couldn’t help the smile that tipped his lips up and he reached desperately for something smooth and sarcastic to say that wasn’t  _ wow you’re just as hot as I remember _ . “It’s really interesting.” 

 

“Just like me.” Pete winked as he grabbed Patrick’s hand and tugged him to the bar, chattering animatedly about the cold brew and the kyoto press and that hazelnut syrup made everything better. Five minutes later they were seated at a table next to a giant conglomeration of gears that adorned the wall, and Patrick realized Pete was staring at him expectantly. 

 

“What?” 

 

“I  _ said _ , tell me everything about you. Start with if you’re an axe murderer or not--that’s kinda a dating no-go for me.” Pete grinned, taking a long sip of his drink and Patrick snorted. 

 

“Definitely  _ not _ an axe murderer, promise. Um...well, I grew up in Wilmette and moved down here after school? I went to Northwestern, ‘cause I just didn’t want to leave Chicago…”

 

The morning fluttered away with easy conversation as they finished their drinks and moved on to sharing a piece of pumpkin chocolate-chip bread. Eventually, however, the plate was empty and Patrick couldn’t help but wonder if this was where it ended...this was where Pete said something like  _ well thanks for hanging out, I gotta head out now,  _ but then never called back, never answered his carefully-crafted texts. That seemed like the standard for his life, once people found out he had every single one of David Bowie’s albums in both CD and vinyl, that he was a psychologist who could probably pick apart their every move if he had wanted (he didn’t, for the record), and that he was thinking about getting a dog.  _ Boring _ , were some of the words he had heard,  _ too perceptive but not exciting at all. _

 

But instead, Pete held out his hand with a grin that seemed to sparkle with something like magic. “Walk in the park? It’ll give me a chance to make sure you weren’t lying about the axe murderer part.” 

 

“What is it with you and axe murderers?” Patrick asked as he nodded, standing and grabbing both their empty cups to put on the bus bench. Taking the plate, Pete followed and set it next to their cups in the bucket, before scurrying ahead to hold the door open for him. 

 

“I dunno. It’s like the worst thing I could think of just off the top of my head. I mean, I guess serial killer would be just as bad.” 

 

“And that’s why you want to go for a walk in the park? What if all my murderish tendencies came out when nobody’d be there to save you?” He couldn’t help but tease, breath quickening as Pete reached out and grabbed his hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm like a perfect gentleman. 

 

“I have a good feeling about you, ‘Trick.” Pete grinned at him and Patrick hoped that his cheeks weren’t as pink as they felt. “Plus, if you  _ were _ an axe murderer, I think I’d just climb a tree--you haven’t mentioned that as a skill, and I’m  _ very _ good at it.” 

 

“Ah.” Patrick shook his head, unable to feel anything but giddy happiness at the way Pete’s arm felt under his hoodie, the way he smelled--cedar wood and something a little smoky. “Well, don’t worry. I usually don’t bring my axe until the second or third date, so I think you’re safe.” 

 

Pete’s laugh echoed through the park, and Patrick decided he liked the sound. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! Thank you for stopping by to read this—I so hope you enjoyed it so far! I have LOTS in store for my favorite couple, so I hope you’ll come back for more! This story is very near and dear to me...I’ve been kicking it around in my head for probably the better part of a year! Updates will not be necessarily regular, so maybe subscribe if you’d like to know when I do post more :) This story is going to be heavily-driven to explore questions about gender identity, sexual freedom and acceptance (that are such points of contention now!) in a way that is unfamiliar. 
> 
> Comments, kudos and screaming at me on tumblr would all be AMAZING!!! Tumblr handle is a_smile_like_that and I’d love to chat <3 Hugs!!!
> 
> Title from: Alpha Dog and Omegalomaniac by Fall Out Boy


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